(no subject)
so a while back i wrote this. it's not the greatest thing i've ever written, but it's my totally indulgent ncis: los angeles otp, and i love them, and i'm pretty fond of the story in all its fun and simplicity. (also because of how it dodges plot of any kind in the least subtle way ever.)
and then nate went and left the show, and so now i have kind of a follow-up piece. not a fandom most of you guys on my flist are into, i know, but yay, fic! and more coming asap.
dance into the distance
nate/eric | ncis: los angeles
It was something of an eleventh hour scenario, when Nate finally told Eric he was leaving. He'd maybe talked himself into the belief that it was for the best. Eric didn't appear to agree.
"Okay." Eric nodded. "Cool."
"Eric," said Nate. "I'm not going into combat. It's not a permanent thing. It's just something I need to do. Something I want to do. You know I always wanted to play a part, help more bringing the bad guys in, and never, well." He paused. "Let's just say I wasn't working to my full potential here."
"You mean you tried your hand at field work and made a fool of yourself," said Eric.
Nate blinked.
"Sorry," said Eric.
Nate shook his head. "I know you well enough to know that your lack of brain-mouth filter is not something you can be cured of," he said, mouth twitching.
"I have access to live satellite feeds," said Eric. "Security cameras. Top-level intelligence. I could get onto a ton of contacts, if I wanted."
"Is that a threat?" Nate tilted his head. "Or a warning, or a convoluted method of telling me to be careful?"
Eric shrugged. "You're the psychologist," he said, glancing away.
"Yeah," said Nate. "Yeah, I am."
"Look," said Eric, glancing back. "It's your thing. I get that. I'm staying to do my thing here, and now you're going to do yours over there."
"But?" said Nate.
"No buts." Eric shrugged again.
"Huh," said Nate. "Well, in that case, I guess I'll miss your. Interesting way of putting things."
"Was that your goodbye?" said Eric, after a silence. "Seriously? Dude, that was terrible. Terrible like, even I could do better than that."
"Thanks," said Nate dryly. "And it wasn't, actually."
"Oh," said Eric. "Well, carry on."
Nate rolled his eyes, placed his bag carefully on the floor, and curled his hands over the arms of Eric's chair, holding it, and him in it, still, ducking his head close.
"You know," said Eric conversationally, "In movies, the whole bag dropping thing is generally a lot more dramatic. Uh." He faltered at Nate's raised eyebrow. "Just saying."
"Usually I'm more struck by the lack of moment-killing observations," said Nate.
"That's a big one, yeah," Eric agreed.
"I am constantly amazed that the two of you ever get around to doing anything that isn't talking," said Hetty from the doorway. Nate jolted upright, palming the back of his neck far too casually to be casual. Eric skittered his chair aimlessly from side to side, looking hunted. "But judging by your satisfied demeanours on entering the office most mornings, I see you must find some way around your stuttering nonesense." Her eyes crinkled amusedly behind her glasses. "Mr. Getz, your car is here."
"Right," said Nate, sliding a glance at Eric. "Uh. Thanks, Hetty. I'll just."
"I'll leave you to finish your goodbyes," said Hetty. "Make it quick, or you'll miss your flight. I advise you not to resume your conversation."
She raised a meaningful eyebrow before she disappeared.
"Hetty knows?" said Eric weakly.
"Of course Hetty knows," said Nate. "She knew before I did. It was freaky."
"Hetty is freaky," said Eric. "Not in -- okay, that sounded wrong, I mean like she's terrifying, not --"
"Two minutes, Mr. Getz," shouted Hetty. "Mr. Beal, for all our sakes, stop talking."
Eric's eyes were huge behind his glasses. "I can't believe you're leaving me alone with her."
"Like I'm any better at dealing with her," said Nate.
"That's true," said Eric. "Actually, for an Operational Psychologist, you're surprisingly bad at dealing with most of our team. Not that, I mean --"
"There are so many ways I could respond to that," said Nate, "All of which I am choosing to forgo, because I have to leave in two minutes and you are still talking."
"So are you," Eric pointed out.
"Right," said Nate. "Thank you. About that." He leaned in again.
It wasn't earth-shattering. It wasn't wrecked. Eric didn't kiss like that.
He kissed warm and comfortable, knuckles white on the bridges of Nate's wrists, mouth soft and open. He kissed like something to come home to.
and then nate went and left the show, and so now i have kind of a follow-up piece. not a fandom most of you guys on my flist are into, i know, but yay, fic! and more coming asap.
dance into the distance
nate/eric | ncis: los angeles
It was something of an eleventh hour scenario, when Nate finally told Eric he was leaving. He'd maybe talked himself into the belief that it was for the best. Eric didn't appear to agree.
"Okay." Eric nodded. "Cool."
"Eric," said Nate. "I'm not going into combat. It's not a permanent thing. It's just something I need to do. Something I want to do. You know I always wanted to play a part, help more bringing the bad guys in, and never, well." He paused. "Let's just say I wasn't working to my full potential here."
"You mean you tried your hand at field work and made a fool of yourself," said Eric.
Nate blinked.
"Sorry," said Eric.
Nate shook his head. "I know you well enough to know that your lack of brain-mouth filter is not something you can be cured of," he said, mouth twitching.
"I have access to live satellite feeds," said Eric. "Security cameras. Top-level intelligence. I could get onto a ton of contacts, if I wanted."
"Is that a threat?" Nate tilted his head. "Or a warning, or a convoluted method of telling me to be careful?"
Eric shrugged. "You're the psychologist," he said, glancing away.
"Yeah," said Nate. "Yeah, I am."
"Look," said Eric, glancing back. "It's your thing. I get that. I'm staying to do my thing here, and now you're going to do yours over there."
"But?" said Nate.
"No buts." Eric shrugged again.
"Huh," said Nate. "Well, in that case, I guess I'll miss your. Interesting way of putting things."
"Was that your goodbye?" said Eric, after a silence. "Seriously? Dude, that was terrible. Terrible like, even I could do better than that."
"Thanks," said Nate dryly. "And it wasn't, actually."
"Oh," said Eric. "Well, carry on."
Nate rolled his eyes, placed his bag carefully on the floor, and curled his hands over the arms of Eric's chair, holding it, and him in it, still, ducking his head close.
"You know," said Eric conversationally, "In movies, the whole bag dropping thing is generally a lot more dramatic. Uh." He faltered at Nate's raised eyebrow. "Just saying."
"Usually I'm more struck by the lack of moment-killing observations," said Nate.
"That's a big one, yeah," Eric agreed.
"I am constantly amazed that the two of you ever get around to doing anything that isn't talking," said Hetty from the doorway. Nate jolted upright, palming the back of his neck far too casually to be casual. Eric skittered his chair aimlessly from side to side, looking hunted. "But judging by your satisfied demeanours on entering the office most mornings, I see you must find some way around your stuttering nonesense." Her eyes crinkled amusedly behind her glasses. "Mr. Getz, your car is here."
"Right," said Nate, sliding a glance at Eric. "Uh. Thanks, Hetty. I'll just."
"I'll leave you to finish your goodbyes," said Hetty. "Make it quick, or you'll miss your flight. I advise you not to resume your conversation."
She raised a meaningful eyebrow before she disappeared.
"Hetty knows?" said Eric weakly.
"Of course Hetty knows," said Nate. "She knew before I did. It was freaky."
"Hetty is freaky," said Eric. "Not in -- okay, that sounded wrong, I mean like she's terrifying, not --"
"Two minutes, Mr. Getz," shouted Hetty. "Mr. Beal, for all our sakes, stop talking."
Eric's eyes were huge behind his glasses. "I can't believe you're leaving me alone with her."
"Like I'm any better at dealing with her," said Nate.
"That's true," said Eric. "Actually, for an Operational Psychologist, you're surprisingly bad at dealing with most of our team. Not that, I mean --"
"There are so many ways I could respond to that," said Nate, "All of which I am choosing to forgo, because I have to leave in two minutes and you are still talking."
"So are you," Eric pointed out.
"Right," said Nate. "Thank you. About that." He leaned in again.
It wasn't earth-shattering. It wasn't wrecked. Eric didn't kiss like that.
He kissed warm and comfortable, knuckles white on the bridges of Nate's wrists, mouth soft and open. He kissed like something to come home to.